


Ghosts of the Reach

by ParvumAutomaton



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Dealing With Trauma, Gen, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-20 04:55:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15526491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ParvumAutomaton/pseuds/ParvumAutomaton
Summary: The Reach may be gone but that doesn't mean that they have stopped haunting Jaime, even while he should be safe at home.





	Ghosts of the Reach

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Weirdowhotalkstoofast (babblingweirdnonsense on tumblr) for letting me brainstorm ideas and providing support during the writing process.

“Jaime,” Bianca called without looking up from the stove, “can you get the plates?”

“Yes ma’am”

Jaime slid next to her in the kitchen. He waited until his mom leaned over to grab a large wooden spoon to reach above her head and grab a stack of plates. It was a dance that they had done many times, starting when Jaime was tall enough to just barely touch the plates with his fingertips and ending over three months ago when-

“It’s good to have you back sweetie,” She said, hesitating a moment to kiss him on the cheek before returning to the stove. “Is everything cleared up with the-”

“Yes.” Jaime answered her quickly. He was home, finally home. And he didn’t want to let the ghosts of the Reach haunt what should be a good time.

“I’m glad. The team sure kept you busy after everything ended.”

“There was lots of clean-up.” Jaime answered. His voice was flat and his lips pressed together when he finished talking. It wasn’t technically a lie, there was a lot of clean-up to do. But it wasn’t exactly the truth either, since there were more than enough heroes to help.

He could have gotten a night off for dinner any time before now.

It was just-

Jaime turned and walked stiffly towards the the table.

It was just that he was aware the entire time he was on mode. And though he now knew that the Scarab was on his side, that didn’t change the fact that the Ambassador was controlling them both.

Jaime placed the four plates on the four sides of the table. The dull clink of porcelain against cloth placemats. Too close to the clink that echoed in his head each time the Ambassador took total control from the Scarab. 

Each time he forced Jaime into a fight.

“ _You have to make this perfect.”_

And when he decided that defeating the heroes was not enough.

“ _ This will be a big night for you, Jai _ me?”

“Jaime?”

He jumped when Bianca touched his arm.

“What?” He asked quickly, trying to hide his pounding heart.

“Silverware.”

“Right.” Jaime tried to give a sheepish grin. But in his mind it felt more like the one that on-mode Green Beetle would give.

“Are you alright?”

Jaime rubbed the back of his neck, and dropped the smile that didn’t seem to be working. “I’m fine.”

“Good.” She said giving him him the forks and knives that she was holding. “I’m so happy to have you here. It’s been a while since we had a nice normal dinner.”

It hadn’t.

Not really.

Jaime could still remember the Ambassador’s threat.

“ _A nice normal dinner.”_

In his voice as smooth as congealed grease.

Jaime didn’t remember any conversation. Just the reverent hope that each question he was asked wasn’t ‘suspicious’. 

The way that the total control over his body wouldn’t let his heart skip a beat, his breath catch, when a plate was moved.

How each time he looked as his little sister, his mother, his father, he could practically see the sword of Damocles hanging about their heads. Waiting only for the wind of the Ambassador’s words to send it crashing down.

Except it wouldn’t be the weapon from some ancient story.

It would be Jaime’s own hand.

Red blood mixing with orange rice.

With the Ambassador’s anti-freeze sweet voice asking.

“ _Aren’t you going to join us?”_

“No!”

Silverware hit the floor with a ringing crash. Jaime could see Milagro looking at him, over the back of the couch. His father slowly walking towards him, face soft and concerned.

Jaime took a step backwards. He felt someone - his mom- catch his arms.

“ _ Mijo? _ ”

Jaime couldn’t move. He couldn’t breath. He-

_ [You are safe,]  _ The Scarab reminded him.

But he wasn’t. He wasn’t. They weren’t. He had to run. To get out of here. But he couldn’t.

His heart felt like it would break his chest. 

_ [An assignment from the team would allow for tactical retreat. Should I find one?] _

“I have to go,” Jaime said. “The team called.”

Jaime didn’t wait for his parent’s response. He raced out of the kitchen, up the stairs, and into his room shutting the door firmly behind him.

He then curled up on the floor next to the trunk under his window, attempting to make himself as small as possible.

He was so stupid. This was just a family dinner. One his mom had been looking forward to for ages. It was nice and normal and safe and he screwed everything up.

He was so selfish. Even with the Reach gone, he couldn’t stop hurting his family. He couldn’t stop abandoning them.

All his mom wanted was to eat a meal with her son.

And he couldn’t even do that. 

Jaime didn’t know how long he sat on the floor. Hunched over with his knees brought up to his chest and his face pressed into them. 

All that he knew was that when a hard knock sounded at his door the light outside had gone from sunny to twilight.

“Jaime? Are you in there?” Bianca’s voice cut through the silent room. “I called the team. There’s no emergency. Jaime, what’s going on?”

Her worry was mixed with the the forceful tone Jaime most recognized from the times she caught him claiming that his unfinished homework was finished so that he could go help his father at his garage.

That tone froze the breath in his chest. She was going to keep questioning. She was going to make the Ambassador nervous. She was going to die. They were all going to die. And it was going to be Jaime’s fault.

Jaime heard footsteps approach. He heard whispering outside his door and then different footsteps leave.

A second knock sounded at his door. This one was softer, two light raps.

“I brought you some dinner.” Alberto’s voice was soft, but easily carried across the room.

Jaime didn’t answer, the silence dragged.

“I’m not leaving until you at least take the food.”

Jaime knew his father would stand out there all night if he had to. Waiting, hurting, because of Jaime.

He couldn’t allow that.

“I’m not hungry,” Jaime called, in a voice so soft that he was surprised that his father heard him.

“Then you don’t have to eat, _mijo._ I just want to see that you are alright.”

Jaime slowly pushed himself off the floor. His knees creaked with the movement. And each felt heavy and slow.

Still when he made it to the door and opened it, Alberto gave him a soft smile. 

“I’m fine,” Jaime said softly.

He took a step back but before he could reach for the door, Alberto caught his hand. He gave it a gentle squeeze and then pulled it up to the plate he was holding, before letting go.

Jaime stared at the plate in his hands for several seconds before slowly carrying it back to his nightstand. After setting it down he sat on the side of his bed and staring at his hands.

“Tell mom I’m sorry,” he said softly. “We can have family dinner tomorrow if...”

Alberto took a step into the room.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He said softly.

Jaime didn’t look up. “Is she mad?”

“Worried.”

“She should be mad. I lied to both of you. Put you both in danger.”

Alberto gently closed the door before walking to Jaime’s bed and taking a seat beside him.

“How did you put us in danger?” 

His voice was soft. Like he was just asking how Jaime’s day was. Like he didn’t actually believe he’d been in danger. 

He was wrong.

“It wasn’t a normal dinner.” Jaime explained. But further elaboration got caught in his throat. 

Alberto took Jaime’s hands in his own. Jaime could feel his gaze, even if Jaime was still looking determinately at his knees.

“You were gone from us for so long. Even though you were right here.” He said softly, his voice wavering slightly in a way Jaime was not used to from his dad. “We just wanted to be with our son again.”

“I know,” Jaime whispered, he tried to curl in on himself but Alberto caught him, and pulled him into a hug instead.

“But never in a way that causes you pain.” Alberto continued pulling him closer. “You don’t need to do any family dinners if you don’t want to.

“But I do want to. I really really want to but-”

Jaime pulled away from the hug. He clenched both fists, nails biting into his hands.

“It’s not fair. The Reach are gone, it’s over, the world is safe. So how come they are still taking everything from me.”

Jaime could feel hot tears form in his eyes, and his father’s hand on his knee, squeezing gently.

“I can’t eat dinner in my own house with my own family without hearing _his_ voice. Without this,” Jaime gestured to his room, shaking. “But I don’t want to give everything up to him. To let him keep winning. But I’m too weak.”

Alberto cupped his hand over Jaime’s cheek.

“No, my son, you are strong.”

“If I were strong, I’d be able to eat dinner at the table.”

Alberto sighed. He let the silence sit for a little before speaking.

“Do you remember, two-three years ago, when Milagro fell off her bike and broke her arm?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you _ever_ think that she was weak for not using it immediately, or needing a cast?”

“What? No. Never.” Jaime responded quickly. Turning to look at Alberto for the first time since their conversation began.

“Not even when she wasn’t near the bike or at risk of falling again?”

“Dad that’s different.”

“It’s not.” Alberto said firmly. “She was injured and needed time and help to heal. So do you.”

“I wasn’t hurt. And even if I was the Scarab’s healing factor-”

“Is for physical injuries. But not all trauma is physical, and that doesn’t make it any less painful or require any less healing.”

Jaime sighed.

“Does the team have someone you could talk to?” Alberto asked.

“They do but...” Jaime trailed off and looked away.

“Then I can find someone here.” Alberto said. “They might require more background than whoever you have on the team, but if you aren’t comfortable there we can-”

“It’s not that,” Jaime cut in quickly. “She’s fine. It’s just- I- I don’t want to waste her time.” 

“You wouldn’t be.”

“I would. Kid Flash died, and everyone has to deal with that. Impulse grew up on an Earth completely under Reach control. Compared to those things my problems-”

“ Are also important and deserving of support.” Alberto said firmly.

Jaime opened his mouth to argue, but closed it when he felt the Scarab lightly touch his mind.

_[Alberto Reyes is correct,]_ the Scarab waited a beat before continuing. _[And I do not like to see you hurt in ways I cannot help.]_

“Alright. I’ll talk to her. But in the meantime, while I’m waiting for who knows how long to ‘heal’? What do I do? Just never eat with my family?”

“Not in the way we tried tonight.” Alberto said as Jaime deflated. “But perhaps we can use some workarounds.”

“What would that even look like?”

“I’ve got an idea we could try tonight.”

Jaime glanced at the plate of food still sitting next to his bed. “I’m not hungry.”

“No one is ever hungry when ice cream comes out,” Alberto said lightly. “And yet it disappears all the same.”

“Milagro will like that,” Jaime answered softly.

“We all would.”

Alberto stood and offered his hand to Jaime who took it. They left his room together, but Alberto turned to call Milagro and Bianca while Jaime continued downstairs.

It was simply a matter of routine to grab four bowls from the cupboard in the kitchen, and four spoons from the drawers. However when he turned towards the table he froze.

It felt like he couldn’t take a step, couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. At least until Alberto laid his hand on Jaime’s shoulder.

“Come on, we’re going outside.”

Jaime allowed himself to be led to the back door, away from the table. 

Bianca and Milagro were already at the picnic table in the backyard when Jaime and Alberto arrived.

Alberto deftly took the bowls and spoons from Jaime and began dishing out ice cream. 

As Milagro pestered him for the exact scoop that she wanted, Bianca sat next to Jaime.

“Is this okay?” She asked softly.

Jaime watched for a moment as Milagro explained for the “hundredth time” that the ice cream was better from the center, the edges were too hard. Before looking back to his mom.

“Yeah”

She smiled briefly, and then leaned in to give him a hug. “I’m sorry.”

“So am I”

She pulled back and looked at Jaime. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

“Jaime,” Milagro called across the table, “Tell papá that the center is the best part. He keeps trying to give me stuff from the edge.”

“But it’s not.” Jaime answered ignoring her scandalized face. “The best part is stuck to the lid, the ice crystals give it the perfect texture.”

Milagro made a face.

Alberto smiled. “It’s been a while, I forgot how nice it was back here.”

“Yeah ‘Berto, it is,” Bianca said returning the smile. “I’m thinking we need to start doing more grilling.”

“What do you mean ‘we’?”

“You.”

Milagro’s face lit up. “We’re gonna get hamburgers?”

“I’ll make so many you get sick of them.” Alberto said with a laugh.

“ How about it  _ mijo _ ? Does that sound good?”

“Yeah,” Jaime answered, “that sounds really good.”

  
  
  



End file.
